Lost in Time
by smylealong
Summary: Orihime is a fashion journalist and an historic romance novel writer whose life has hit a rut. Her career is stagnant and her muse has deserted her. Ulquiorra is a warrior who follows a strict code of honor. His life belongs to his master. The two weren't even supposed to meet. However, in one fateful evening, something magical happens and their worlds collide. AU.
1. My life sucks

After a lot of deliberation I finally decided to publish this story. My beta and I are uber-excited to share this story with you all. There are a couple of things that I need to say before this story begins. I have tried to keep things as authentic as I could. However, in certain places, I have had to take some liberties so that the characters remain faithful to their cannon counterparts. Likewise, I have also had to make subtle changes in the characters so that they can stay in sych with the story. Nnoitra, for example, will not be cussing left, right and center. However, he will still be the Nnoitra that we all know. He will be lewd, vulgar, lecherous, foul-mouthed and blood-thirsty, but he won't be dropping the f-bombs.

The other thing that I need to mention is that you'll notice that certain words are in italics with a number next to it. Those words need further explanation and the same will be provided at the end of the chapter.

The Japanese name of the story and chapters are from Google translator and if I make a mistake, please do point it out.

Beta Cerice Belle.

* * *

**LOST IN TIME **

**(****JIKAN DE ROSUTO****)**

* * *

**Chapter 1**

**My life sucks**

**(****Watashinojinsei wa saiteida****)**

A small, yellow, mechanical bird peeped out of a tiny door, tweeting merrily in synch with the music emanating from the clock. On the bed, Orihime groaned into her pillow. She struggled to get her hand out of the tangle of sheets covering her. After several failed attempts, she finally managed to find a gap in the sheets through which she could wedge her arm. She fumbled the side table for a bit before her fingers found the knob that would switch the alarm off. Stretching languidly, Orihime rolled over. Deciding that another ten minutes of sleep wouldn't hurt, she pulled the sheets over her head and curled into a comfortable ball. When she next opened her eyes, it was an hour and five minutes later.

"Holy crap on a cracker!" she cried as she leapt up from her bed and ran to her bathroom.

She discarded her clothes with one hand as she applied paste on her toothbrush with the other. Her pajama got entangled in her leg so she had to hop one-legged as she brushed and tried to untangle her leg. She finished her morning schedule in top speed and fifteen minutes later, she was out of the bathroom. She donned an off-white shirt and pale lavender business suit, glad that she'd had the sense to iron them last night.

Orihime ran to her fridge as she combed her hair, picked up a carton of milk and drank directly from it. She tied her auburn hair in a simple braid, grabbed her bag, her hibiscus hairpins, keys and phone. Slipping on her black peep-toed flats she ran out of the apartment and to her car. She threw her things in the passenger seat and started the engine.

As she merged on to the highway she muttered a string of curses as she realized that the traffic was exceptionally heavy and almost unmoving. She took advantage of the bumper to bumper traffic to finish her make-up and clip her hairpins. As her car crept along Highway 71, her eyes fell on the woods that ran along it. These woods had some very interesting stories associated with them; most of them originating from the time the Karakura Municipal Corporation had decided to build the highway through it. Strange phenomenon started to occur, making the construction of the road very difficult.

One time there had been a flash flood that washed away the half built road. Another time there had been an earthquake and another time, unseasonal typhoons had wreaked havoc. Ultimately they decided that they were incurring heavy losses from having to rebuild the road again and again and that circumventing the forest would probably be cheaper. Some bureaucratic back and forth later, the plan got sanctioned and the Highway 71 was built. That was fifteen years ago. Since then Nature had reclaimed the part of the woods the Municipality had cleared. But stories of the woods being magical or cursed stuck.

Orihime didn't believe that the forest had any mystical power and considered the rumor to be an urban legend. However, she felt a certain sense of awe and unease whenever she crossed them. Perhaps it was the author in her that loved the mystery, but she found herself strangely drawn towards it. Her apartment was situated on the other side of the forest and thus, to go anywhere, she had to take the Highway 71.

Finally the traffic let off. The radio in her car announced that there had been a collision somewhere and the jam was a result of rubbernecking. Orihime stepped on the pedal and zoomed on the highway, her mind on the busy day ahead. The forest and its mysticism were forgotten.

* * *

She had been typing out her latest article when the phone on her desk rang.

"Hello?" she said absently.

"Orihime, in my cabin, now," her boss's voice sounded from the other side.

"Yes," she tried her best to sound enthusiastic but failed.

She walked into his cabin and tried her best not to cringe. It was ironic that Keigo Asano, the man who was the Senior Editor of one of Japan's most famous and influential fashion magazine, had no sense of fashion. He was currently dressed in a bright red shirt, yellow tie with what looked like Christmas trees, Santa Claus, reindeers and baubles drawn on it. He had paired it with a bright green sports jacket and brown chinos. Added to the entire ensemble was a loud and cloying perfume that made Orihime gag.

Suppressing the urge to bolt, she sat in front of him and pasted a fake smile on her face. "You called me, Keigo?"

"Indeed," he said smiling in the way that meant bad news, "I hear you were late, again?"

"Yes, I woke up late and then the traffic …"

"Don't worry about it," he said waving a hand, "More importantly, the Japan Fashion Week is coming up. You're going to be one of our correspondents. You'll be covering the Vintage Haute Couture. Get prepared for that."

Anyone else would have been thrilled but Orihime was actually depressed. She hated her job. When she had done her course in Mass Communication, she had wanted to be a crime reporter. She had tried her best to get into a newspaper but somehow things hadn't worked. Hard pressed for money, she had taken up a job in the fashion magazine with the hopes that it was temporary. Seven years had passed since then and her temporary job had become her permanent one. She was stuck reviewing fashion weeks and red carpet events, describing the way a garment fell or how it folded and what clutch went with what shoe and what belt buckle looked out of place. It was inane, boring and completely unsatisfying.

She might not have been so melancholic if her writing career had worked in her favor. But there too she'd hit a block. She moonlighted as a Historical Romance Novel author under the pen name of Shun Shun Rikka. Her first couple of novels had been huge successes but then her muse had dried up. It had been ten months and she had written less than thousand words. Her publisher was giving her a hard time, asking when he could expect the manuscript and now she had run out of lies to hedge him. She had now taken to avoiding his calls altogether.

Painfully Orihime managed to pull her lips into a semblance of a smile and said, "Great, I'll get right on to it."

Meanwhile Keigo had stood up and walked around to sit on the table in front of her, his foot brushing against her shin in a way that made Orihime think that it may not have been accidental. He put a hand on her shoulder and said, "What's wrong Inoue? I miss seeing your bright and cheerful smile."

Orihime squirmed slightly, enough to make his hand slip off of her shoulder and said, "Nothing. I have a bit of a headache. I'll start my work. The deadline for the article is right round the corner."

"Oh sit down," he said pushing her back into the chair as she started to stand up, "Won't you at least have a cup of coffee with me? It'll help with your headache."

Orihime did not miss the way his thumb was coming closer and closer to her breast. Biting her annoyance she stood up and said in a soft but firm voice, "I just had my coffee. I don't drink too much caffeine. Now if you would excuse me, I have to work."

Without giving him a chance to protest, she walked out of his cabin.

* * *

A couple of days later, Orihime sat drinking with her friends. It was Thursday, which meant that it was the girls' night out. She had dressed in a brown silk top, a cream jacket and a pair of dark-blue denims and sneakers. Usually Orihime would only have a couple of drinks but today she had reached the peak of her frustration and was on the sixth shot of Tequila.

"Don't you think you should stop?" Michiru asked, concerned. Michiru, the archeologist, was the level headed one of the group. She was the one voice of reason, the one person who held them sane in tough times. Ryo, while mostly a calm and collected person had a streak of unpredictability to her that still managed to surprise her friends even after fifteen years. Tatsuki was the hot-head of the group and more often than not, liked to give a kick or a chop to get her point across.

"Are you telling me?" her eyes were slightly unfocussed and her speech slurred.

"Yes, she's telling you," Ryo said sternly, "What's gotten into you? This is your sixth shot. You haven't even eaten anything. You're going to throw up, you know."

"What's gotten into me?" she said dramatically, "Life's gotten into me!"

"What?" Tatsuki asked perplexed.

"Yes, I mean look at me," she said pointing at herself, "I'm going to be twenty-nine soon. Twenty-nine! That's almost thirty! Assuming that I live to be sixty, I have already lived half of my life. And what have I achieved? Zilch! Nada! I'm stuck in a job I don't like, my muse has deserted me, I don't have a boy-friend. I haven't had a meaningful relationship in my life, my boss in a pervert who tries to grab my boobs every chance he gets! In short, MY LIFE SUCKS!"

"Have you tried filing a sexual harassment case against him?" Ryo asked.

"The thing is, he does it in a way that I'm not sure if it's deliberate or an accident," Orihime replied.

"Oh please!" Michiru said in a dismissive way, "No man brushes against a woman 'accidentally' repeatedly. It has to be deliberate!"

"I agree!" Tatsuki added, "Just tell me and I'll kick him till he sees stars."

Ignoring Tatsuki, Michiru continued, "Seriously, file a complaint. He'll not know what hit him."

Orihime frowned, pondering on it. In her drunken haze the idea held a certain appeal. However, the shots and her depression had given her a headache and she was overtaken by the sudden urge to curl up in her bed and cry herself to sleep.

"You know what," she said standing unsteadily on her feet, "That's exactly what I'm going to do. Tomorrow morning, I will file a complaint."

"Where are you going?" Tatsuki asked.

"Home," she answered placing some bills on the table, "My share."

"You're going to drive? Like that?" Ryo sounded aghast.

"I'll wash my face with cold water and I'll be fine," she said, "Don't worry. I'll call when I reach home."

"No you're not driving, I'll call a cab," Tatsuki said to her. To the others she said, "I'll be right back!"

"Tatsuki, really, I'll be fine," Orihime insisted.

"Like hell you would be," the black-haired woman said, "There's a storm coming. I don't want you to drive in that condition and in this weather."

The two friends stepped outside the bar as Tatsuki called the cab company. The music from the bar was exceedingly loud so she moved a few steps away from the door to converse better. Seeing her chance, Orihime ran over to her car. Her drunkenness had exacerbated her frustration with her life and Tatsuki's babying was getting on her nerves. The idea of running away seemed very alluring. So she followed her impulse. Her house was a little over six miles from the bar, surely she could manage that much! She sat in her car and drove off.

She got onto Highway 71 and was surprised to find it almost deserted. Weeknight, coupled with an upcoming storm had driven most people indoors. She gripped her steering wheel hard as she concentrated on the road. Little less than 2 miles from her house, her car suddenly fishtailed. Somehow she managed to pull over to the shoulder, used the handbrake to bring the car to a halt and parked it. It had started to drizzle and the wind was picking up. Ignoring her constantly ringing phone, she got out of her car and staggered over to the rear to find that she had a flat-tire.

She screamed in frustration and kicked the offending tire while the wind was whipping her hair in her face continuously. She got her purse, phone and car keys and locked her car. She dug out a hair-grip from her purse and tied a hasty knot. She desperately wanted to go home and drink a cup of tea. She couldn't see a single car for her to hitch a ride home. So in her drunken and exasperated stupor she decided to walk home.

Muttering angrily to herself, she started to head home. She had walked about three-quarter of a mile when the storm picked up in earnest. It was then that Orihime made the latest in a series of bad decisions that would change her life forever. She decided to take a shortcut through the woods. In her mind, as long as she headed west and maintained a relatively straight line, she should reach her home. Having made her decision, she crossed the low embankment and carefully walked down the slope, away from the road and into the woods.

What she hadn't thought of was that the forest would be pitch-black. Whatever little light would usually permeate from the civilization around it was cut off due to the storm. Instantly realizing her folly, Orihime turned back and headed towards the road. However, in the darkness her foot caught a branch and she tripped. While the dry leaves on the forest floor had cushioned her fall, they couldn't stop her from tumbling down the slope. As she rolled downhill, she was scratched all over by branches and brambles.

When she stood up, soaked to the skin and aching all over, she realized that she had lost all sense of direction. She groped around her feet blindly for a while before her fingers brushed against her purse. Thanking her providence, she pulled out her cell phone from it, only to realize that there was no network. Suddenly she remembered that she had a pencil torch in her purse. She dropped her phone back in, fished out the torch, switched it on and started to head in a random direction. Although she didn't know it but had she walked to her right, instead of her left, she would have gone out of the forest and onto another part of Highway 71 in less than fifteen minutes. However, as fate would have it, she chose to walk left, away from civilization and deeper into the mystical forest.

Cold, shivering, wet, hungry, aching, scared and crying, Orihime walked. Many times she stumbled. Sometimes she heard a rustle here and a hoot there. All the while, it kept raining. At one point, Orihime could have sworn she felt something run over her feet. Abject terror froze her, rendering her incapable of screaming. A loud clap of thunder jolted her into action. She didn't know for how long she walked before she spotted a small structure. It looked like an old shrine. She wiped her tears and ran over to it. Her torch was about to die out and she needed to take a shelter before that. Without a second thought, she entered into the _shrine _(1).

Once inside, it was clear to her that this shrine had been here for a long time, perhaps for centuries seeing as it had fallen to ruin. Several creepers and trees had broken through its walls and roof. But it was a shelter from the rain nonetheless. She slipped down on the floor, exhausted. She pulled her legs up to her chest, clutched her purse tightly to her bosom and started to cry.

"Why?" she sobbed, "Why did I make that stupid mistake? Why didn't I listen to Tatsuki when she said she'd get a cab? Why? Oh God! I'm so completely lost! I'm in such a mess! Please, help me! Somebody, please help!"

She sobbed for a long while. Exhaustion, hunger, thirst and pain started to take their toll on her and she began drifting in and out of consciousness. All of a sudden a bright light permeated her awareness and she had the feeling of suddenly dropping a great distance before she lost her consciousness completely.

* * *

The old castle that Michiru was working on renovating was presumed to belong to a powerful _Daimyo (_2) in the mid-15th century, during the _Ashikaga period (_3). It had mostly fallen to ruin over the years. Somehow, this castle and its story had become lost in the pages history. It was situated on the edge of the forest that was along Highway 71. It had recently been excavated and now the Japanese government was working on bringing it back to its lost glory, but it was easier said than done. It was back breaking work and Michiru had to often get down on her fours to get the work done. Slowly, inch by painstaking inch, the team were uncovering the story that the castle had to say.

Michiru was scraping a layer of grime from the floor when her phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Michiru!" Tatsuki's voice was extremely panicked.

"Tatsuki, what happened?"

"Michiru, Orihime!" she seemed on the verge of tears.

Immediately concerned, Michiru stood up, "What about her?"

"She's missing."

"Missing?"

"Missing!" Tatsuki was distraught, "Her car is abandoned on the Highway 71 and she is nowhere to be found. Her cell is unreachable. She is not at home or at office. I've been everywhere she could possibly be."

"Have you alerted the police yet?" Michiru asked.

"Ryo did," the black haired girl replied.

"Where are you all, I'll come over?"

"At Ryo's."

Michiru disconnected the call and frowned. It was unlike Orihime to just up and vanish. Yes she had taken off from the club last evening but they had fully expected her to call back. The first signs of worry had started when she had refused to answer the call. They had decided that Tatsuki would go to her place first thing in the morning, since it was her day off. Now it was close to mid-day and there was still no news of her. It was very unlike her and was definitely a cause for concern.

_She'll be fine,_ Michiru told herself. Although something inside her disagreed.

* * *

The incessant chirping of a bird percolated through her cognizance. She opened her eyes to a very bright light. Her head hurt, her body felt like it had been taken multiple cycles in a tumble dryer, her throat was on fire and her stomach cramped from hunger. She groaned and used her hand to shield her eyes from the light. From the warmth that surrounded her she realized that the Sun was shining on her. She wondered why she was feeling the Sun on her body. Hadn't she pulled her blinds? With that thought, the horrible events of the previous night came crashing into her mind. She bolted upright, instantly regretting her decision.

"I do not think moving is a very wise idea," a beautiful masculine voice said to her.

Startled she turned to see a man crouching next to her. She looked at the man and blinked. He was dressed in what could be the weirdest dress she had ever seen in her life; and given her profession that was saying something. He was dressed in a green _Hitatare (__4)_,which she recognized only because of her knowledge of history. He wore a black _obi (__5)_ and she could make out the hilts of the two swords that were wedged through it. His black hair hung about his face in an unruly fashion. His face was extremely interesting with sharp, precise features, as if he were carved from stone by a master sculptor. His skin was so pale, Orihime wondered if he was an albino. But most interesting were his eyes. They were unlike any pair of eyes she had ever seen; green like the first shoots of leaves. And while his face was inscrutable, his eyes told a story of their own.

"Who are you?" she asked rolling her tired shoulders.

"I should be the one asking you that," he replied in a calm, flat voice.

_That's a weird accent,_ she thought. Aloud she said, "I'm sorry, I didn't quite get you."

"I have never heard anyone speak like you do. I do not understand some of your words," he seemed slightly perturbed by it.

"Anyway, are you from the Police? Or are you a local? Can you help me find my way out of the forest?" she asked hopefully.

The man frowned at her, clearly unable to follow what she was saying, "Perhaps you need to eat. Maybe then I can understand what you are saying."

"Food!" she couldn't help but salivate, "That sounds good. Come let's go."

She started to stand up but her legs wouldn't support her. She staggered and was about to lose her balance but a pair of strong arms grabbed her, preventing her fall. She looked up to find that the man was holding her in place. _When did he stand up?_ She wondered.

Wordlessly he took her arm and draped it around his neck, grasped her waist with his other hand and started to guide her out of the shrine. Orihime couldn't help but notice the clinical and detached way he performed this task. She knew she was an attractive woman and that men had, more often than not, tried to touch her under any and every pretext. This man was different. She could have been a rag doll for all the difference it would have made to him. He lent her a gentle yet firm support as the duo walked out. As they stepped outside Orihime held up her hand to shield her eyes from the Sun. She blinked her eyes to adjust to the change in light and gasped. The forest was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

**EXPLANATION:**

1 Shrine: Shintoism is a polytheistic religion and it venerates natural objects such as Sun, trees, mountains, rivers or even dead nobles. There are numerous shrines built across Japan, each venerating some God, Goddess or an object.

2 Daimyo: A Feudal overlord of Japan.

3 Ashikaga period: A Shogun was the head of the military government and the strongest _Daimyo_. The Ashikaga family ran the Shogunate from 1336-1573.

4 Hitatare: Hitatare was a two-piece costume, though more flowing and ample compared to a Kimono. Hitatare was popular between 12th and 17th Century.

5 Obi: a belt worn wrapped around the waist and tied in front.


	2. Where the Heck am I?

****Wow! Thank you so much for the overwhelming response. Much appreciated. Just to remind you that after this chapter, this fic will be on hold because I'll be going away on a hiatus soon. Expect at least one update from LYTO and possibly one from TTH before I leave. Once I come back, updates will be more streamlined.

The explanation of words and some other important notes are at the end of the chapter.

Beta: my beautiful friend Cerice Belle

* * *

******Chapter 2**

**Where the heck am I?**

**(****Ittai koko wa doko?)**

The strange woman had fainted, yet again. It was fortunate that Ulquiorra held her for she would have collapsed on to the ground otherwise. Now what was he supposed to do? When he had gone to the shrine this morning, he had not expected anything out of the ordinary to happen. But then, as he sat with his head bowed in a prayer, a bright light shone seemingly out of nowhere making him hold up a hand in front of his face to shield his eyes. The light burned bright for a few moments before diminishing. To his immense surprise, when he lowered his hand, he found himself staring at the unconscious form of a woman who wasn't there before. The shrine was small and there was no way he could have missed an entire human being lying face down in front of him. Ulquiorra looked around, trying to figure out where she had come from. The only entrance to the shrine was behind him, so if someone were to have left her here, they would have had to cross Ulquiorra. He was certain that no one had passed by him.

The only other alternative was that she had somehow appeared there. It did not make any sense, but Ulquiorra wasn't able to come up with any other possible way that the woman had landed there. If the manner of her appearance was bizarre, so was her attire. Although her clothing was torn in several places, she was dressed in a style he had never seen before. She was dressed in what appeared to underclothes, only it was blue in color. He also spotted a brown kimono on her, only it looked much shorter than the standard kimono, coming only up to her waist. She also had on what looked like the top part of a Hitatare, only it was white, short and didn't have any obi.

He had just been examining the strange fabric when she stirred. He retracted his hand just as she woke up. It hadn't escaped his notice that she looked badly injured, exhausted and disorientated. The conversation that followed was even more nonsensical. She spoke a peculiar dialect that he was unfamiliar with, which was saying something as he was a very well-travelled man.

Assuming that she was unwell, which, given her current condition would not be surprising at all; Ulquiorra suggested that he should feed her. She seemed excited at the prospect and started to get up but lost her balance. It was only thanks to his lightning reflexes that she didn't hit the ground. Since she looked like she was about to collapse again, Ulquiorra offered her support and walked her out of the shrine. That's when she let out a gasp, looked around frantically, screamed something in a language he had never heard and then fainted again.

Ulquiorra stood there for a few moments, debating with himself as to whether or not to abandon the woman here at the shrine. Deciding that the least he could do was to give her the food he had promised her, he scooped her up bridal style and started walking home.

* * *

"What is _that_?" Aaroniero Arruruerie pointed to the west with his _wakizashi (_1) that he'd been sharpening. The four people around him looked at him and then looked at the direction he was pointing at. Like one being, they gasped, their eyes widened.

"Is that … ULQUIORRA?" Yammy screamed.

"Tell me I am dreaming," Grimmjow muttered, "This has to be a dream."

Szayel shook his head, "It's not a dream Grimmjow, although I share your incredulity."

Nnoitra remained speechless, his mouth hung open as he gaped at the sight in front of him. Long moments of stunned silence later, the tall man erupted into raucous laughter.

Meanwhile the subject of their disbelief and amusement walked into the courtyard where the five sat. Ignoring the questioning glances, Ulquiorra calmly crossed the courtyard and continued to walk to his quarter. The others exchanged quick glances and reached an unspoken agreement to follow him. The quintet maintained a distance from their _nakama (_2) as he walked past all the quarters to his own, that was situated at the very end. He used his body to slide open the _shoji (__3)_ and walked in. Moments later his nakama were at the door watching him put the unconscious woman on the _tatami mat (_4). Then, as if he had done nothing stranger than walking in a garden, the black-haired man walked out of his quarters and glanced expressionlessly at the five stunned faces.

"Do I need to ask?" Grimmjow spoke, "Or is my face doing it for me?"

Ulquiorra raised a brow, "Your face looks like it always does; bewildered."

Szayel snorted, while Yammy voiced the question that was on everyone's mind, "Who is that woman?"

"I don't know," Ulquiorra replied as he prised his _katana (__5)_ out of his obi and started to walk to the courtyard.

"That is not an answer Ulquiorra," Aaroniero said pacing after him.

Without looking at his comrades he replied, "It is the truth."

"Alright, so where did you find her?" Szayel asked sitting next Ulquiorra who was now at the whetstone.

He took his katana out of his scabbard and started to sharpen it. After a brief pause he replied, "At the shrine."

"What? You picked up some woman you found at the shrine? Am I the only one who thinks that is odd?" Grimmjow asked incredulously.

"No," Nnoitra spoke finally, grinning from ear to ear, "Our Ulquiorra has finally grown some balls and become a man."

Ulquiorra looked at him, "Why is it that whenever you open your mouth, you spout filth?"

Nnoitra let out another rambunctious laugh, "What? That body was made to be bedded. Don't tell me you didn't notice?"

Ulquiorra ignored the comment.

"Why is she unconscious? And she looked hurt, what happened?" Yammy asked.

"Again I don't know," Ulquiorra answered. He then proceeded to tell them exactly where and under what circumstances he had found the woman. A stunned silence followed his tale.

"If I didn't know that you don't possess an ounce of imagination," Szayel said after a while, "I would have said you are making it all up."

"He may not be," Aaroniero mused, "You know there is a tale about how that stretch of land is magical."

"I … I am strangely at loss for words," Grimmjow muttered.

"That is a first," Ulquiorra retorted.

Ignoring him Grimmjow continued, "It almost sounds like she was sent here by the Gods."

"Yes," Nnoitra had apparently recovered from the shock, "The Gods are telling you to lose your virginity Ulquiorra."

Ulquiorra was about to respond when a loud and feminine scream issued from his quarter.

* * *

When Orihime opened her eyes, she found herself in a strange room that seemed to be built like old Japanese houses, like the ones she would see in movies or write in her novels. Startled, she sat up and looked around. She couldn't spot a single electronic item or a gadget. No phones, TVs, iPods, laptops, appliances – nothing. Not even an electric socket. She thought back to the man dressed in the Hitatare and wondered if she had somehow been saved by some kind of Japanese equivalent of the Amish people. Regardless, she had to get back to Karakura Town. Her friends might be getting worried. After all she had sort of dumped them in her inebriated state.

She grabbed her purse that lay next to her and dug out her iPhone but there was no network. Sighing she stood up but the exhaustion made her sway slightly. She threw out one of her arms but there was nothing to grab on to. She was about to step out of the room when her eyes fell on something on the floor. She narrowed her eyes and bent down slightly. It was a greenish, rope like thing. Curious Orihime nudged it and it moved. _It moved?!_

She screamed at the top of her lungs, there was a snake on the floor! She was going to die! She didn't want to die, not yet. She was too young to die. She was still a virgin for God's sake! She heard some footsteps and within moments, six men barged into her view. Scanning the group her eyes quickly found the pale man from the shrine.

"S-s- snake!" she pointed a trembling finger at the reptile.

The man frowned for a moment then his eyes followed her finger and fell on the snake. He looked at the snake and then back at Orihime, completely nonplussed.

"It's a snake!" Orihime screamed.

"Yes I know," the pale man replied.

It was Orihime's turn to be baffled, "What do you mean 'I know', it's a snake damn it!"

"I don't understand why you are making such a fuss, woman?" the pale man replied.

"That snake … it'll kill me," Orihime squeaked.

The man looked at her expressionlessly, "It is harmless."

"I- I don't understand what you're saying?" Orihime shook her head.

The man sighed, walked in the chamber, bent down and picked up the snake by its hood. Then nonchalantly walked out and set it on the ground where it slithered away. Orihime stood gaping at the man who was back at the door, next to the five men who were speechlessly staring at the scene ensuing in front of them.

Orihime heaved deeply, with a hand placed over her palpitating heart. Finally she calmed down enough to speak up.

"So, where exactly am I?"

The tall man grinned toothily, bowed and walked into the chamber, "What, you don't know where you are?"

Although she didn't understand what he was saying, the way the man was looking at her, she felt a small shiver run down her spine. She knew that look; it was one full of lechery. Inadvertently she took a step back.

"Umm …," she looked at the pale man who was still at the entrance, "I … Umm … you said you'll give me food. I'm hungry," just to be sure that he understood, she added hand movements by placing one on her stomach and the other pointing to her mouth.

The black-haired man nodded. He walked into the room to a small table, picked up some earthen-ware dishes and placed them in front of her. Orihime sat down and started to wolf down the food presented to her. Unbeknownst to her, the remaining men had stepped into the room and gathered around her. They were eyeing her with a mixture of interest and curiosity.

Finally the man dressed in a kimono and a pink bandana spoke up, "So what's your name?"

"What?" she asked.

The man seemed to understand that she was having trouble understanding them, so he repeated his question slowly, enunciating every word. This time Orihime understood.

"Oh!" she chewed the food hastily before she spoke, "Orihime Inoue."

Her hitatare-clad savior asked the next question, duplicating his friend's technique, "Where are you from?"

Orihime smiled brightly, "Karakura. Karakura Town. How far is it from here?"

The muscular man with a blue hair ornaments leaned forward, "What?"

"Karakura Town," she repeated slowly, "How far is it from here?"

"Where exactly is that?" the tall, burly, and bald man asked.

"What do you mean?" Orihime asked the food in front of her forgotten.

The pink-bandana man answered her question, "We have travelled far and wide. There is no such place around here."

She looked at each of them quizzically, as if waiting for one of them to say that the pink-bandana man was joking. When no one contradicted him, she continued, "Come on! Karakura Town! The one that's neighboring to Taketoyo!** The two towns are connected via Highway 71 that circumvents that forest that's said to be magical. I got lost in that forest last night."

The men exchanged blank looks. It was then that something else struck Orihime. Each man was dressed like a Samurai, replete with silk Hiatatares or Kimonos, an obi, two swords and a pair of _waraji (_6) or _geta (__7)__. _She decided that her earlier assumption of these people being the Japanese version of the Amish must be wrong. They wouldn't be carrying weapons so nonchalantly. There had to be only one other explanation.

"You guys are the crew of some historic drama is it?" she asked earning a fresh wave of blank looks. "Whoever is in charge of your costume needs to be fired pronto. I mean where are the top-knots? Shouldn't Samurais wear top-knots?"

"Aizen-sama is lenient that way," the thin, mustached man answered slowly, "He has given us the freedom to wear our hair the way we want to.*"

"Aizen who?" Orihime asked, "Your director?"

"Our Daimyo," the tall lanky man answered. Orihime had almost forgotten about him but now she found him standing in such a way that he could peer down her cleavage with apparent ease. Normally Orihime would have stood up to cut out the free show, but this man was so freaking tall, it wouldn't have made the slightest of difference. She pulled her tattered jacket closer and absently rued the mutilation of one of her favorite item of clothing.

Meanwhile the man with the blue hair ornaments leaned forward and touched the hem of her jacket, "I don't believe I have ever seen this kind of clothing. Where is this from?"

Orihime turned to look at him and then swatted his had away. He had spoken so fast she hadn't understood all of what he had said but she knew he was talking about her attire, "Hey, stop judging!" she snapped, "I spent the night trudging through a damn forest with just a pocket-torch to guide me through. I look a bit disheveled, yes, but I won't have you insulting my fashion sense. I'm a fashion journalist you know!"

Although currently she hated her job, she still had a sense of pride. It was strange but true.

Belatedly the pink-bandana man spotted the oversight on their part, "Apologies," he said with a smile, "we haven't introduced ourselves. I am Szayel Aporro Granz."

The huge, bald man pointed to himself and declared loudly, "I am Yammy Llargo."

The thin, mustached man bowed, "Aaroniero Arruruerie."

"I am Grimmjow Jagerjaquez," the man with the blue hair ornaments added.

"Nnoitra Jiruga," the tall lanky man leered.

Finally her pale-skinned savior gave his name, "Ulquiorra Schiffer."

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**

1 Wakizashi: Short-sword.

2 Nakama: Friend/ comrade

3 Shoji: The Japanese architecture relied heavily on slender pillars and rafters with sliding inner partitions and outer walls. The sliding outer walls were called Shoji.

4 Tatami mat: A mat made from rice straw used as a flooring material.

5 Katana: A long sword used by the Samurais

6 Waraji: Sandals

7 Geta: Wooden clogs

* Traditionally a Samurai was supposed to wear his hair in a top knot. However, to stay true to the Bleach cannon characters I have changed that detail. Szayel and Grimmjow do not have pink and blue hair respectively. I altered their appearance slightly in keeping with the time. Aaroniero doesn't look like Kaien and by extension Ichigo. I'm imagining him as a thin black haired-man, average height and a mustache.

**The names of the places are entirely fctional and any resemblance to a real place is purely coincidental.


	3. What just happened?

I'm terribly sorry that I've been such a slow poke with updates but my writing time has been severely cut short, what with my son and the fact that I've started to do some freelance work. But rest assured, I haven't forgotten all you awesome folks. So here I am with the latest update.

* * *

Beta: the ever awesome Cerice Belle

* * *

**Chapter 3**

**What just happened?**

**Nani ga okotta no?**

Orihime bowed her head politely, "Pleased to meet you. So, where am I?"

"Hueco Mundo," Szayel answered.

She turned sharply, "What?"

"Hueco Mundo," he repeated, "Surely you've heard of it. It is a very famous province around here."

"You're kidding me right?" she had switched to English without realizing, "Hueco Mundo?"

The men exchanged looks of complete befuddlement. "What?" Aaroniero asked.

"What?" she asked, switching back to Japanese.

"What did you just say? What kind of spell was that?" Yammy asked, looking at her fearfully.

Orihime blinked, "Spell? It wasn't a spell dummy, it was English."

"En … Engles?" Grimmjow looked dubious.

"What's wrong with you guys? How can you not have heard English? And how can this be Hueco Mundo? I know my history well and I'm pretty sure that Hueco Mundo declined in the Onin War1 and was dissolved as a province entirely. So how can this be Hueco Mundo?"

"What war are you talking about?" Szayel queried, "Is there a war brewing?"

"The Onin War," Orihime was now getting irritated, "Who is in charge of the historical accuracy for this show? The person is clearly not doing their job properly. You guys should know about the Onin War of 1467 to 77."

Ulquiorra's eyes narrowed, "I am not sure I follow what you're saying. What war?"

Orihime sighed, "Alright, so what period are you guys supposed to be playing? Judging by your costumes, this is the Ashikaga period2 right?"

Grimmjow snorted derisively, "Of course it is! The Shogun3 Jushiro Ukitake belongs to the Ashikaga clan, everyone knows that!"

Orihime gaped at him, at a complete loss for words. She opened and closed her mouth several times before she spoke weakly, "No! That's not possible! How… Jushiro Ukitake? Wh… That's impossible! Unless … who's the actor portraying Ukitake?"

This time it was Nnoitra who repeated the now irritatingly familiar question, "What the hell are you talking about?"

Orihime's writer's imagination was working actively by now, presenting her with a scenario she wasn't willing to consider. She didn't want to think that it was possible but now that the doubt had crept in her mind, she had to check. Fingers trembling slightly, she pulled her handbag closer to herself and pulled her phone out. She waved it around to check for network but it was in vain. The network bars resolutely remained absent.

"Damn!" she snapped, "Why is there no network?"

The sight that met her eyes when she lowered her phone would have been funny in other circumstances but now it only served to heighten Orihime's already building anxiety. Each man was staring at her phone with their expressions ranging from horror to incredulity to skepticism.

"What is that?" Szayel asked pointing at her phone.

"My phone," Orihime answered shakily, her fears slowly but steadily solidifying.

Each of them continued to look confused, only contributing to scare her further. Her palms had started to sweat and the phone was slipping out of her grasp. She took a deep shuddering breath and tried to recollect the events that had landed her here. She remembered getting lost in the forest and taking refuge in the shrine. She could vaguely recollect how a bright light and the feeling of free-fall. She had initially dismissed them as a product of her drunken mind but now, she wondered if that's what it had been. And then there was the missing forest and the fact that the shrine didn't look nearly as dilapidated as it had been when she had entered it. In fact, it had looked fairly new.

Her voice quivered as she asked, "For how many years has Jushiro Ukitake been the Shogun?"

"Fourteen years," Ulquiorra replied.

The phone dropped from her hand as she gripped her hair tightly. She quickly did the calculations and realized that if what these men were saying was true, then this was the year 1439. She started to shiver uncontrollably as she muttered to herself fervently.

"No, no, no, no," she huddled into a ball, oblivious to the curious stares she was receiving, "That just cannot be. I'm still drunk and I'm dreaming. Yes, that must be it. I'm dreaming. I'm going to wake up to find myself lying huddled in my bed, writing about the Vintage Haute Couture of the Japan Fashion Week. That's just it. Coffee, I should get myself some black, strong coffee. Asking any of these guys for coffee won't make sense, right? I mean they're a figment of my imagination, right? They're definitely not real. Nope. Can't be. I'm going to wake up and find Keigo annoying me, trying to touch my boobs. Yup. That's exactly what's gonna happen. This …"

"Woman," a flat voice cut through her monologue, "What are you babbling about?"

Her head snapped up, "What?"

"You are talking nonsense," Ulquiorra repeated, "What's going on?"

Orihime gaped at him, blinking stupidly. A few seconds later she recovered. "You don't exist," she declared with conviction, "All this doesn't exist. I'm dreaming."

The six men exchanged confused looks and Grimmjow spoke, "We definitely do exist. See?"

He shoved his hand straight at her face, offering her to touch it and confirm. Orihime shrunk back from him. She could see that his hands were calloused, as if from extensive physical work.

"No!" Orihime shot back, "I'm not touching anyone. The moment I touch you, you'll all turn into Samurai robots that'll attack me with lightsabers like Jedi masters and even Obi Wan Kenobi and Yoda won't be able to save me from you lot. I'm not risking touching you!"

Abruptly Ulquiorra stood up, "You are tired. Go to sleep woman, we will talk again when you are more coherent."

With that he stepped out of his chamber and started to walk away. The remaining men appeared a little uncomfortable and one by one, filed after him, leaving Orihime confused, alone and more than a little scared.

* * *

Tired, caffeine deprived, scared and bored, Orihime had drifted to a restless slumber. A soft hand on her shoulder woke her up. She blinked the sleep from her eyes to find herself looking at a beautiful woman with large hazel eyes, and with green beads threaded through the many braids in her black hair.

"You're the woman sent by Gods?" she asked in a voice that was strangely high pitched for a woman her age.

Orihime sat up frowning, "What? What Gods?"

Just like the men, the woman too was dressed in a green hitatre. "They sent me here to look after you. Do you want to have a bath?"

Although the woman had the same accent as the others, she was speaking slowly, enunciating every word in a way that made it easier for Orihime to follow what she was saying. Perhaps it was because of that coupled with the friendly smile and the fact that she was the first woman she had seen in what felt like a long time, Orihime found that she instantly liked her.

"Yes," Orihime added with a smile of her own, "A bath would be welcome. I'm Orihime Inoue."

"Nelliel Tu, call me Nel."

Orihime followed Nel through the courtyard of a large group of chambers. The first thing that she noticed was that there wasn't a single concrete structure to be seen anywhere. Ignoring the sinking feeling settling in her stomach, she strained her ears to listen to the drone of a machine or an electrical hum or the honk of a car. She desperately wanted to hear a sound of the 21st century but all she could hear was the chirping of some birds. So keen was she trying to hear familiar noises that she wasn't even aware that she had paused.

"Orihime?" She looked around to find Nel looking at her quizzically, "What is wrong?"

"It's so quiet," Orihime whispered, "It's too quiet."

"Quiet?" Nel repeated, "Is it very noisy where you come from?"

"Where I come from?"

Nel nodded smiling sweetly, "Yes. The heavens I mean."

Orihime felt like someone had bonked her head with a frying pan, "Heavens? What are you talking about?"

"Well, you were sent to us by the Gods after all," Nel chirped with childish enthusiasm, "People cannot stop talking about you. Everyone has been talking about how you magically appeared in the shrine and …"

"Wait, what? Magically appeared?"

Nel nodded, "Yes! From what I've heard, Ulquiorra claims that when he was at the shrine, a bright light shone in his eyes and then, moments later, you were lying there, unconscious. You did not walk in, someone did not drop you there and you were most certainly not there when he stepped in. So where did you come from? And then there is your clothing. I must say I have never seen cloth like that. You are clearly sent by the Gods."

Orihime looked at Nel, feeling increasingly sick. She was beginning to suspect that it was not a dream. The Sun was far too warm, the chirps of the birds far too real and the voices far too clear to be a dream. Besides, her dreams were almost always nonsensical, with people turning into robots and shooting laser beams from their eyes. This was too coherent for it to be her dream. With a sickening, sinking feeling she was starting to believe that she was really, actually stuck in 1439 Japan.

And if she were indeed stuck in feudal Japan, how was she to explain that she was from the future? How on Earth was she to explain time travel? Did she even understand it herself? Was she losing her mind? As Orihime grappled with the innumerable emotions swirling within her, she stood still and completely silent.

Nel took her silence as acquiesce and clapped her hands in sheer joy, "I knew it! You're so beautiful! You could not possibly belong to the world. You had to come from the Gods! We are all blessed!"

Orihime could only manage a shaken, weak smile to Nel who was now happily chatting while dragging her along. She was led to a chamber that was slightly bigger that Ulquiorra's but was equally sparsely furnished. Nel chatted animatedly as chose a pair of hitatare for Orihime.

"This might be a little big," Nel said eying her critically, "But this is the closest that I can get to fit. Maybe tomorrow I can get some clothes for you …"

Nel stopped in mid-sentence, the hitatre clutched tightly in her fingers. The ensuing silence snapped Orihime from her trance-like state and she noticed that all traces of joy were gone from Nel's eyes. Her face had become an inscrutable mask. "Orihime, your bath is being prepared," she said in a controlled, tight voice that had lost the shrill childlike quality, "It will take some time. Do you want something else?"

Seeing Nel's eyes fixed at a point behind her shoulder, Orihime turned. To her intense surprise, a man stood at the shoji, looking straight at the taller woman with an expressionless face.

"Orihime," Grimmjow said in a flat voice, "I see you have met my wife."

* * *

Onin War - The Shogunates maintained order early on but slowly lost power to regional Daimyo which resulted in the Onin War from 1467-1477. The government system collapsed and the nation fell into anarchy as provinces went to war against each other for control of the country. The provincial war lasted for a hundred years.

Ashikaga period – 1336-1573. Also known as the Muromachi period. In this period, every shogun belonged to the Ashikaga clan.

Shogun – A shogun was a military commander and they were hereditary military dictators.


End file.
